Dexter: After the End
by Vampmer
Summary: Joey tries to put the pieces of his life back together after Deb's death. But he can't forgive Dex from stealing her body. Ellway is still insistent on wanting Hannah, and he's brought up some points about Dexter. And Dex...? Read on to find out what happened after the end of everyone's favourite serial killer.


Dexter: After the End

Chapter 1

M

* * *

Joey Quinn sat in stunned silence, watching the surveillance screen. The way everything had unfolded since the storm had left, left his friend Batista stunned in the same silence. The two men watched, and then replayed the black and white image.

"As you can see, he takes Deb from here, we lose them from this camera but it's picked up again outside." Explained Ellway, pointing at the screen. He'd called Batista a few days before having found himself stranded and drugged on a bus. "He probably used the cover of everyone moving the patients, can't believe he had the balls to drive the boat right up." Ellway shook his head. The other two men still sat in their stunned silence, watching the images of Dexter unplugging Deb, and carrying her to his boat, only to sail off out of view. "He killed her, he took her off life support and then spirited her away." Insisted Ellway.

Batista sighed and rubbed at his eyes, he hadn't been sleeping well these past few weeks. "Dexter was Deb's only living relative-" he began

"Dexter wasn't related to Deb at all." Insisted Ellway.

"She didn't see it that way. He was her legally adopted big brother." Chimed in Quinn, his voice in monotone as if he was very far away.

"Legally, it was Dexter's call whether he should leave her on life support." Began Batista.

"Doc said she'd need a fucking miracle." Said Joey, his voice cracking at miracle. He blinked back tears.

"So what- he just took a more direct approach?!" yelled Ellway.

"The man just lost his sister." Said Batista solemnly. "_We_, just lost her. No one was thinking straight."

"He wasn't thinking straight when he offed Saxton or Voguel or whoever the hell he was then either?" spat Ellway.

"Thanks for the footage, but with all due respect, we're the actual police." Said Quinn standing up and scuffing his chair back. "It's nice to at least know what happened." He admitted.

"Yeah, you two are the cops. Don't you think there's something fishy here? I already told you about Hannah and Harrison. Do you honestly think Dexter would just leave him with her?" argued Ellway.

"You have zero proof you actually saw Hannah and Harrison." Stated Quinn.

"But you know I did."

"I know you like reward money and wasting people's time." Spat Quinn.

"Take it easy." Said Batista putting a hand on Quinn's back. "Look, if the Hannah and Dexter thing was real, there's nothing that can be done about it now. Dexter is dead. We've already put out the amber alert on Harrison and have people looking across the country."

"He's not in the country." Grumbled Ellway.

"Believe me, we want Harrison back." Insisted Batista. "But this obsession you have with Hannah, there's nothing else that can be done."

"I still believe he's with her. They never found a body. He fakes his death." Insisted Ellway. Quinn sighed, but Ellway wasn't about to let him get another crack in. "Everyone around Dexter Morgan dies. Think about it. How many people on your force have died? His wife was killed by a serial killer. His sister was killed by a serial killer."

"This job attracts the worst people." Started Quinn. "We've all suffered losses."

"No one else seemed to have their family members murdered. Don't you think it's odd? Dexter's own brother was a serial killer. Now Dexter's dating a serial killer." Ellway tapped his own nose. "Honestly, I could run circles around you."

"I think we're done here." Said Quinn holding the door open.

"Deb deserves better. Harrison deserves better. You loved her." Said Ellway jabbing Quinn in the chest.

"Apparently I'm not the only one." Replied Quinn softly. That caught Ellway off guard, and he slumped his shoulders and left the room. Quinn closed the door behind him. The two men stood watching the looped security footage.

"You sleeping?" Batista finally asked.

"Not a wink." Sighed Quinn.

"The psych evals start tomorrow." Mused Batista. Quinn nodded.

"He had a point." Quinn said softly. Batista looked up. "No one ever found his body."

"They never found Deb's either." Shrugged Batista. "But you can look over the report if it'll help you sleep at night."

"It won't."

* * *

He'd been afloat for two days when he finally washed up on shore, clinging to a plank of waterlogged wood. The base of the boat had survived the storm intact for the most part, but piece of the hull and the top had been left floating behind. He'd be drifting aimlessly with no land in sight. He remembered wishing he had died. That the storm had taken him. That things has ended. But after he hit his head thanks to a rogue wave that sent him flying, he couldn't remember why. So he'd clung to the piece of wood, the water progressively getting colder, and his mind more delirious. He washed up past the US Canadian border, in Nova Scotia. The first day he'd done nothing but sit in a Canadian emergency room. An old couple had found him on the beach. He didn't remember his name, his age, where he was from. He had no identification on him. So they'd taken him to the hospital. It turned out anyone could get treatment in Canada, so he'd been looked over. A few lacerations, minor hypothermia, a strange stab in the front of his shoulder, and a definite concussion. "Likely amnesia." The doctor explained in an eastern accent to the couple. "It could go away on its own but there's no way to know how long it'll be." He shrugged. "There's a YMCA if you want to take him there, I'll write a prescription for pain killers."

"Havens no." said the wife half of the couple. Ruth. Sixties, petite, but something told him she was a force to be reckoned with. "He'll stay with us."

"If you want to." Said Ben, the other half. "Rest up for a few days, see how your head feels. Maybe you'll remember something."

"I don't have any money." He said sitting on the side of the hospital bed. "I don't have anything." He admitted. He didn't even have a name.

"We'll worry about then once you're well." Said Ruth.

"Honestly, I could always use the help out with the trucks." Admitted Ben. "Not as young as I used to be, and you look like you can lift." Ruth smacked her husband on the arm. "When you're feeling better of course."

He smiled at them. Kindness from two perfect strangers. "I'd be happy to do that." He agreed.

"Not for at least two weeks, and he must wear a hard hat regardless." Added the doctor. They nodded in agreement. "Try not to think too hard." Instructed the doctor. "It'll come back in time. Many patients find certain sights, smells, touch… they trigger memories. It'll come back in pieces."

He sighed, heaving his shoulders. His injury hurt. The doctor said it was like he'd been stabbed, but he didn't show up on any criminal registry. It wasn't like a usual stab wound. Like a stick, or a pen.

* * *

Hannah stared blankly at the tablet screen. She'd seen the article earlier in the day, but she was with Harrison. She couldn't allow herself to read it in front of him. Now she was reading every scrap of information she could possibly find. "Damnit Dexter." She whimpered as her eyes began to brim over. Saxton hadn't gotten him. At first she thought his boat had been hit trying to get rid of Saxton's body… but then she'd read the other articles. It read like a soap opera, and Miami news outlets were eating it up. Dexter's sister, killed by a serial killer in the line of duty. Then Dexter kills the killer in self defense right in front of Miami Metro. Then Dexter disappears and so does Deb's body. Only the wreckage of his boat found. She frowned and she continued to read. He was presumed dead- and to be honest as much as she hated to face it- it was probably true.

She turned and looked at Harrison, sleeping in the hotel bed. His mother had been murdered. Now in a twisted way of fate, his father dead too. Who was he left with? A Black widow of a woman. Hannah dropped her face into her hands. She was prepared to have Harrison- but she was prepared to be a mother with Dexter by her side. She loved this kid as an extension of Dexter, but she had no idea how to raise a child. She was terrified her own parent's bad habits would slip through her own parenting style- if she even had one. There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea… but she didn't really have a choice.

Hannah curled up next to him on the bed and watched him sleep, quietly sobbing to herself. How was she going to do this? Everything hurt from the shock of finding out the truth, and now she was a criminal on the run. Sure, she wasn't in the USA anymore… but something told her Ellway wouldn't stop either.

"Mmm Is my Daddy here yet?" came Harrison's voice.

"Shhh… no sweety. Go back to sleep." Said Hannah ruffling the boy's hair. "Do you remember what Daddy told you?" she asked.

"He told me he loved me very much." Yawned Harrison.

* * *

Quinn snapped out of bed, instantly alert and drenched in sweat. It took him a moment to realize where he was. It was deb's place. He'd gotten loaded the night before, and wound up here with his spare key. He was supposed to be helping pack the place up to be sold, and helping go through her stuff in lieu of any blood relatives. But the whole process was taking much longer. In fact, he hadn't even started. Every night it was the same thing. There was still a month's worth of power pre-paid, Tv, that sort of thing. He'd crack a beer and sit on her couch, watching tv, and occasionally smelling something that belonged to her. Smelling her, made him feel like she was still here. He'd see her in his dreams sometimes. Cursing him out and tucking her brown hair behind her ears.

His head hurt, so he got up from the couch now, realizing the tv was still on, and went to the sink to get a glass of water. He reached for a glass but thought better of it. Touching something she touched with her mouth indirectly made his chest ache, so he stuck his face under the faucet. He took a sip and then let the cold water wash over his skin. He couldn't get the stuff Ellway said out of his mind. Seeing Dex kill Saxton right in front of him- at the time Quinn had been so numb. But now, a few days later, watching him take Deb off life support on replay… it cut him deeper than anything else in his life. They'd been so close to finally being together and finally being happy. She'd finally come to terms with Lageurta's death and was back on the team. Her creepy brother was going to be out of the picture. Quinn stared out the dark window and decided his head needed a break and it was time for the tv.

He shuffled his way back to Deb's couch and plopped down, expecting the remote to be at his side. It wasn't. He cursed and stood up, padding his hands around the cushions to try and find the thing. He looked around the couch and under it- nowhere to be seen. So finally, he pulled up the cushions. The remote was wedged in behind, but closer to it was a pad of yellow paper with what was most definitely Deb's chicken scratch. He pulled it out and dropped it on the table, and turned the t.v. on.

Quinn let the TV drone on about international news for a while. An image of Harrison flashed on the screen. According to Ellway he was with Hannah. Dexter and Hannah. It made a sort of sense. Everything Quinn knew about Dexter was fucked up, and Dexter's wife had been murdered. People tended to do fucked up things after trauma like that. He wondered when his own ticking time bomb of grief would explode in his face. As much as he hurt right now, there was still a sense of "this isn't real" for Quinn. He was used to not seeing Deb around the station. It would likely hit him hard in the next few weeks. When it really sunk in. Quinn didn't want to think about the future right now. He was content to live in Deb's house for those remaining few weeks. His eyes caught the yellow paper. Suddenly he remembered what it was and scooped it up.

He flipped the pages barely scanning them at first, his memories tracing back to the day he had Deb in the interrogation room. Dexter had swooped in with Voguel, and taken her away. Quinn frowned. Voguel's son killed deb. Even for a cop that could be as thick as Quinn, he knew there were dots that needed connecting. He frowned again at the paper, and began to read.

_My name is Deborah Morgan, and I shot and killed Maria Laguerta. I shot Maria, because she wanted me to shoot my brother. I should have shot my brother. _

Quinn stared at the words on the paper. They were scrawled, and he could practically read the anxiety dripping off them. He heard every phrase in Deb's voice. She'd only recently began to refer to Lageurta as Maria, right before her death. The lines blurred together and his chest went tight as he continued to read.

_Maria was right about Dexter. I've been covering for him for a year. He'd tracked Estrada and killed him. Stabbed him. That's how Maria found Dex. That's how I found both of them. She told me to put him down. I tried. Instead, I put her down. I want to die. I hate myself. It was a split second decision made out of fucked up love for my brother. _

Quinn couldn't process what he was reading. His mind wasn't making any sense of it, even with all of Deb's usual expletives. His head was spinning.

_I knew Dexter was a serial killer. I've known for almost a year. I discovered it when I went to close the church where Travis Marshall had last been. I found Dex killing him. A first he told me he'd lost his mind, snapped, and killed Travis. I wanted to believe him but it didn't add up. So I tore apart his home. I found his trophies- sentimental blood slides taken from every kill he'd ever made. _

Quinn dropped the pad of paper and stared at it. Blood slides. Dexter was the Bay Harbor Butcher. He felt like he was going to vomit. It didn't make sense, but to his cop instinct, it did. It all made a scary sense. He stared at it for a moment, and then picked it back up again.

_Dex did it all. And that's not even what hurt me the most. My dad taught him. Harry. Harry gave Dex a code- he can only kill people who fit the code. I thought for a year I met the code now because I knew the truth. I spent the year trying to convince Dex to stop killing but he couldn't. There was always someone. Someone he needed to be on his table. Sometimes I wanted them on the table too. I knew Maria was on to him. I didn't think he'd kill her, but he was basically responsible for Doax's death too. Doax got too close. Doax got blown up._

Doax had been blamed as the butcher, and Maria has always been adamant it wasn't him. Suddenly things started to fall together. Joey remembered too many perps they'd been so close to nabbing- who just disappeared. Had Dexter been responsible for some of them?

_It goes back so far. To when I was a teenager. A kid even. But what's important is that I killed Maria. I'm sorry. I'm sorry everyone. She was my friend. My boss. I cared about her. I didn't plan to do it. I thought I would shoot Dex. I really did. But I killed Maria. I can't take it back. I wish I could. I want to die. I hate myself. _

The words scribbled into something unreadable then. Quinn remembered Dexter came with the doctor then. Taken her away. He always thought when Deb said she'd killed Maria that she simply felt responsible. But she really did kill her, and now the talk they'd shared in the ambulance made more sense. "Maybe you at least feel at peace." Said Quinn out loud to her memory. Deb really hated herself for what she'd done. She thought getting shot was justice. Maybe now if people really did have souls hers would be at rest knowing she'd paid with her life. There were tears running down Quinn's face.

He sat there for a while, and then he got up, and got in the car.

* * *

The couple called him Andrew. He'd been suspicious of all their help, but after a few days with them, he realized their son Andrew had died. Having him around helped. He helped with the logging company, helped with the chores, and helped by just being a body in their presence. They knew he wasn't Andrew, but it brought them happiness to call him it, so he didn't mind. Besides, he couldn't remember his own name anyway.

The doctor had been hopeful that memories might resurface. They never really did. Some nights he dreamed of a little boy with sunshine hair. Others he dreamed of some sort of woman in water. She was always floating, a white dress swirling around her, everything very opaque, and she stared up at him, whispering. He could never hear what she was saying.

When he first started hearing the voice, it happened between waking and sleep and he thought it must be her. But soon he realized it was a male voice. It came to him when his thoughts drifted, but he could never make it out. He knew healthy people didn't hear voices and he had no desire to go back to the hospital. So 'Andrew' did his best to pay the voices no mind.

Today however, it was getting loud, and he was making out the words. He loaded up the truck and headed to the break cabin- relieved to see that no one else was inside. He sat down at the table, took his hard hat off, and sat for a moment almost panting. His skin felt like it was crawling. He seriously wondered for a moment if he was some kind of junkie gone too long without a fix. The feeling nearly knocked the wind out of him. "Go away." He said to the voice inside his head, creasing his eyes closed.

* * *

Quinn was surprised to see Dexter's door open. He'd already planned his story. He'd tell Batista he was looking for any of Deb's things in Dex's boxes that hadn't been moved. He'd leave out the letter from Deb. Batista would be torn if he knew Deb killed Maria. They were all dead now so it didn't matter. But Dex. If he could find Dex's trophies and they could test the DNA on the slides… there were so many cases they could close. It might be the thing he needed to get the promotion, but really, Quinn felt so angry at Dexter for even putting his sister in this situation. As far as he was concerned, Dexter was just as responsible for Deb's death as Saxton. Maybe that was why Dexter drove into the storm.

Quinn took the steps two at a time, there was light spilling out of the door. Looters? He felt for his gun at his side, and called out, "Open up, this is the police. You're trespassing!"

There was no response, so he carefully edged himself through the door. He was confronted by a familiar figure, sitting hunched over on the floor, holding a case of blood slides. "Angel?"

Batista looked up at Quinn, with a faraway look. "I was going through Maria's things. All this death made me miss her. I found her case notes on Dexter. The more I read… the more I had to prove to myself it wasn't true."

"…Dexter…" began Quinn

"…was the butcher." Finished Angel.


End file.
